


Identity Theft

by forbidden_fruit_vendor



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Conventions, Cosplay, Deadpool Thought Boxes, Explicit Sexual Content, Ill let you know when there's smut, It'll be like marked in the chapter notes at the beginning, M/M, Oral Sex, Pansexual Wade Wilson, Rimming, Slow Burn, super convenient, that will come later though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 17:33:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10470369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forbidden_fruit_vendor/pseuds/forbidden_fruit_vendor
Summary: Peter enters a cosplay contest as Spiderman, just for laughs. He never expects to lose. Much less to who he ends up losing to.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of a plot bunny I've had jumping around my head, and the first work in this fandom. Constructive criticism is welcome, and depending on how well this does I may make another in this fandom for a different plot bunny I've had. I'll update tags as needed. It should be known, Peter is of age in this work. I also claim no rights to Deadpool or Spiderman, because I'm not that successful. This is an un-beta work so if you spot any inconsistencies or mistakes please indicate it in the comments. 
> 
> Enjoy, and please review! I love the comments. They fuel my motivation.

Peter needed a break. His university classes had closed for break, but he still seemed to be drowning in work. He had to catch up on pictures for Jameson, he had been running pretty low on the ones he'd had stockpiled. He had been at May's for a solid week helping her clean in light of good weather. Then he had cleaned his own dismally small flat. Not to mention, his patrols as Spiderman took up a lot of his nighttime hours. He felt like he had begun to run down; moving just a little slower, mind just a little duller, but just didn't quite know how to stop. In fact, when he wasn't even doing anything at all he felt a level of anxiety, as though he were forgetting something very important. 

In the end Aunt May had to set him on the right path. 

"When was the last time you did something, just for yourself, for fun?"

When had that last been? Before he ended up taking pictures of himself for a living he was fond of taking pictures of literally anything else. He used to skateboard to the park and take pictures of the loitering patrons, the small children, the scenery…

He'd told May that he needed to work, that he needed the money. He should have known better, and felt guilty when she finally sent him home one-hundred dollars richer than he'd arrived. 

Despite her request to "do something nice" for himself he decided to do the frugal thing and save it for food. He didn't necessarily discount the idea of doing something for himself though. In a perfect world he'd go on a vacation, but in reality just the word "vacation" made the voice in his head laugh sarcastically. So, after all this time, the park seemed like a good enough choice. 

No. Even the park just…  
It didn't hold the same enjoyment for him anymore. Holding his camera even, seemed so much like work, and even the presence of frolicking children, chatting parents, and the occasional hand-holding couple couldn't make him shake the unease of this anxiety. He felt jittery, like he should be doing something else with his time other than taking meaningless pictures. 

Slowly, the park started to empty as it grew later. He forced himself to stay, to try to relax and enjoy the light breeze, but it just seemed to make him more nervous. Until the cosplayers of course, who blew all other thoughts out of his head. 

At first he thought there was some crazy new villain at large, but why would attack an almost deserted park around sunset were there were little to no people and therefore little havoc to wreak? All the same he had to stop himself from grabbing his backpack that contained his suit- for emergency purposes only of course. 

Peter had long ago learned to block out the typical New York sounds, recognizing only the alarming or sinister. So when he heard an electronic whirring from somewhere behind him, his first thought was of some horrific particle beam or one of Iron Man's blasters. Turning around had not helped the shock. Large white wings, giving the impression of a celestial body, or at the Angel (the mutant) were the first things he saw. He had already begun reaching for his backpack zipper when he registered the amicable laughter. When he realized that nobody was acting very malevolent, and that the angel came with friends, he calmed down a fraction. 

The angel was just a girl, and the wings were product of careful construction and definitely weren't real- but they certainly did look the part. Her friends were also unusually dressed. They were a good distance away so he couldn't see details too clearly, but the group seemed composed of five people all together, and none of them seemed to be wearing conventional clothing for this decade. From what he could see around the angel wings there seemed to be a short portly fellow wearing a top hat, tails, and a monocle, carrying a handsomely large briefcase. Another man was dressed similarly. He however, was tall and blonde; wearing narrow black dress slacks, a black waistcoat, white collared shirt, black cravat, black top hat, and curiously a pair of fogged blue sunglasses with blinders. He held a black gladstone shoulder bag and a black cane topped with what looked like a silver skull. Except for the bag, glasses, and cane, he looked suspiciously like a funeral director. There was a female clad in a long kimono that seemed to weigh heavy, unlike regular kimono that were made to seem almost weightless. On her feet she was wearing a pair of geta with floral patterned thongs. The whole getup was an eye-catching purple and green; a muted lavender and a subtle moss color that moved along the garment like a wave with a neat curve of white separating the two. Her dark hair was swept back in a messy ponytail, held together by a matching green ribbon, but many strands had escaped and cascaded into her face elegantly. The last looked like he didn't belong in this ragtag group. He was short and lean, and dressed up as Spiderman. 

The group was traveling slowly, more interested in conversation it seemed than in covering ground. They were laughing as the Spiderman and Angel were erupting into an enthusiastic Alice Cooper rendition.

"School's. Out. For. Summer…  
School's. Out. For. Ever…" 

Certainly a sentiment he could get behind, and before he even thought about it he had started walking towards them, his camera clutched in his hand. 

It should be known, Peter didn't often approach people when taking pictures. He specialized in candid photographs, as much from anxiety as it was artistic expression. Peter like the faces people made when they thought nobody was looking, that's when humanity is at its most honest. This group though, they were already so alien to their surroundings, so different, it just wouldn't look right to take a photo with their defenses lowered. They belonged in a world all their own. His anxiety took a backseat for about as long as it took him to travel and reach an unacceptable distance for 'just passing by.' When the group finally took notice of him, he realized he had not worked out anything to say to these people. After all, what was he supposed to say? Somehow, 'Hey, nice wings!' didn't seem to cut it, and strangely sounded like a euphemism in his head. 

The laughter had died down, and the angel, who was the only one facing the other way was still talking. 

"-best thing about it was that he answered in character, so the whole panel was-"

Angel seemed to realize she had lost her audience and slowly turned. Social anxiety had come back full force at seeing the group look questioningly up at him, but the angel cut through the awkwardness with a sweet sounding serrated knife.

"Oh hi!"

"Hello, I- uh- I'm Peter." She nodded, smiling brightly, and inwardly he cringed at how weak his voice sounded. 

"I was just- I saw you guys, and… Can I just, get a couple shots of all of you?" He held up his camera tentatively.   
"I mean… If you're not busy of course." 

"Oh, hell yeah!" The angel said, enthusiastically gesturing to her friends, "You don't mind, guys?" There were murmurs of assent and they all seemed quite friendly and agreeable despite the initial unease of his approach.

Now that Peter could see their costumes up close, he couldn't help but admire the ingenuity. The angel along with the well-dressed gentleman were obviously steampunk in design. The angel was blonde and sporting thick bronze goggles on her forehead, and the wings branched out of a shining mechanical backpack contraption on her back that had sturdy leather straps crisscrossing across her chest. It looked more like an old fashioned jetpack than anything. She wore a wide, cinch necked white blouse with short puffed sleeves and a golden corset with tan leather breeches. Upon looking at the blonde funeral director he noticed what he had taken for blue sunglasses were actually goggles.

"Dani, should I get my shit out?" Peter looked between the short, dark haired man with the briefcase and Dani the angel, whom he took to be the leader of the little troupe. 

"Well, yeah. He won't get it otherwise." Peter felt a stab of annoyance. He wasn't ignorant, just awkward. Thank you very much. 

"He won't get it anyway, probably." The funeral director said scathingly. Dani gave him a sharp look and turned back to Peter smiling. 

"Don't mind him. It's just not a lot of people get it when they see it. I'm Danielle, you can call me Dani. That's Johannes, shut up by the way," She said to the blonde as she pointed him out, "and that's Troy, but you can call him Nikola."

'Nikola' nodded up at him from his place crouched on the ground where he was fiddling with the briefcase, and before Peter could ask what it was he was actually doing he unclasped the case with a satisfying 'clunk' and let both sides of the case fall on the ground. Peter gasped audibly. 

Inside was a round static sphere much like the small toys that attract visible beams of light when you touch them with your finger, but this one was much larger. Understanding the connection (suck it Johannes!) Peter chuckled. Far from being affronted the man on the ground grinned up at him , level with his knees where he was donning a thick pair of brown gloves. 

"Tesla? As in Nikola Tesla? That's awesome!" His inner nerd was showing, but the man didn't seem to mind as the grin broadened. He hurriedly snapped a couple of close ups of the design. It was certainly an inventive (ha, puns) piece of machinery that he could appreciate. Although, not an engineer he marveled at the principle. It was a girthy sphere about 6 to 7 inches in diameter held in place by bronze extending arms that presumably folded up when the case was closed. The static in a satisfying electric blue was flickering animatedly from within. 

"If you think that's cool, just wait…" Tesla stood above the briefcase arms spread wide, and Peter had just enough time to notice the fingertips in the gloves were stark black rather than brown before lightning seemed to flash from the sphere to his hand in long arcs. He'd extended the range with a super conducive material in the gloves and Peter had had never seen such dedication applied to a costume before and let out an admiring whoop before snapping another photo of the bizarre display before backing up for a better angle. 

"That is amazing! How long did it take you to make all that yourself. Presuming you didn't buy it?" Tesla pulled an agonized face before withdrawing his hands.

"Nope! Made it myself, except the suit of course. Months! Then again, I can't complain. The Icarus wings took longer." He motioned to Dani and Peter raised an eyebrow at the blonde as she gave a snort of derisive laughter accompanied by a chiding, "whiner!"

"Dani, Icarus? Excellent play on the mythology." She nodded, sticking her tongue out at a disgruntled Johannes. 

"Could I get one of you too?" She assented and stepped forward as Tesla packed up the case. She struck a Rosie the Riveter pose with wings outstretched across the skyline. Peter tittered, amused with her antics, as he tried to move to catch the waning sunlight over her majestic shoulders. 

"So how long did the wings take? They're very good looking by the way, I almost thought the Rapture was happening you know." Dani tried and failed not to smile at the joke. 

"Thank you! They took, like, four years to get them right and even then there's routine maintenance. They lose feathers and shit all the fucking time." Peter started a bit at the profanity tossed about like croutons on a salad, but she didn't seem to notice. It had been a long time since he'd met someone with such a bombastic personality. 

"Can I get a shot of your back?"

"Whatever floats your boat, cutie!"

"That's not what I-" Peter could feel his cheeks heat up as the Spiderman snickered. Dani jumped in place, turning swiftly in midair and placing her hands on her hips causing a rustle through the aperture and a gust of light breeze to brush his hair. 

He got several shots of the backpack, conversing on the structure and witnessing how the wings folded up neatly (with minimal feather loss) to fit inside, and the operation for extension with a neat little lever on the side. 

He had to coax the little geisha girl who looked astounded that he would want her photo at all, judging by the way her eyes widened to surprised and adorable saucers. It turned out the creativity didn't cease. The amateur geisha, it turned out, had knitted her own kimono over a period of three months and was happy to spread out her sleeves to show off the intricate stitching. She was however, very soft spoken and when he asked her name she responded by turning very red and saying, "Bethany" in a scandalized whisper.

"And forgive me, I have no idea who you're meant to be." Peter said, holding out his hand to shake the tall blonde's hand, because if his aunt had taught him anything it was how to be polite. The man gave, what Peter supposed, was the dictionary definition of a smile. It was a replication as though a species who had never smiled tried to do it with only the knowledge of what one looked like without ever actually seeing it. With the fogged glasses, it was extra creepy and Peter let go of his hand rather quickly. 

"Very few do. Johannes Cabal, Necromancer." Peter was sure his eyebrows receded into his hairline, and Dani laughed. 

"Good Gods Johannes, don't scare him off!" Johannes cocked a brow.

"I have been downright pleasant. I have no idea what you mean." To his credit, his voice was more flat that Kansas and gave no indication that he had meant to insult or intimidate him. Peter felt his animosity grow a little dimmer in retrospect. 

"Don't mind him. He never breaks character." She said evasively and Peter nodded like it made total sense as the Spiderman looked like he was restraining mirthful tears with difficulty behind his mask. 

"Right, you don't mind if I…?" He held up the camera tentatively. Another enigmatic smile surfaced on that blank slate.

"Not at all." Reaching inside the gladstone bag he pulled out a massive handgun. It was the largest handgun he'd ever seen that could still be operable one-handed. Peter was never a fan of firearms, given the way his uncle died, and barely managed not to flinch as it was withdrawn. Luckily, even though he didn't particularly like them, he did have experience with them given his *ahem* night job *cough,* but this gun looked like none he'd ever seen. It was like something out of a western; holding six rounds and looking like it held great stopping power. A revolver to end all revolvers. 

"That's not real is it?" He managed to get out in a relatively even tone, knowing it would be bad manners to web it out of his hands. Cabal didn't seem intent on using it though, merely looked at is as though contemplating it. 

"Well, if it isn't I'd say it was rather expensive for a fake." Peter watched as he raised the gun without cocking it and pointed it straight at him. His spidey sense however was resolutely silent, and it took him a moment to realize that he was posing for the shot. Hurriedly, Peter raised his camera sideways to get a good profile and couldn't help but smile at the way the shadows seemed to play around the domineering figure. As Johannes walked back to his comrades the Spiderman spoke up. 

"You a professional or whatever?" 

"Huh?" Peter started. 

"Photography? That your thing?" 

"How did you know that?" The lookalike shrugged. 

"You just look like you know what you're doing, you know?" Now that felt good to hear for once. 

"Yeah, sort of, I actually take pictures of the real Spiderman for the Bugle." 

"Holy shit! For real?!" At least it impressed other people, but Peter had to be honest that it gave him a sense of satisfactions to see Johannes raise an impressed eyebrow. The spiderman rushed forward.

"I guess it's nothing compared to the real thing, but if you want a couple shots I can maybe beat the crap out of Johannes for you. He's almost a criminal." Everyone but Cabal laughed in a good natured sort of way. 

"I'd like to point out, that nothing I do is technically illegal. I come across all my corpses naturally. I'd advise you though, it isn't always wise to bring webs to a gunfight, Connor." Johannes stated, completely unfazed to the allegations that left Peter wondering if he was even playing a character at all. 

"Whoa! Secret identity! What the hell, man?" Connor spat out, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"Well, I can't guarantee they'll make it to the paper, but I'd like to have a couple." The spiderman punched the skyline triumphantly as he sauntered forward. 

Peter had to admit it was a lot of fun photographing the very enthusiastic Connor. He was very receptive and was not afraid to have fun with the experience. He crouched down into a prime webslinging pose, and even did some impressive gymnastics that Peter was able to capture with a rapid shutter.

Connor turned out to be big fan of the Webbed Wonder and Peter was delighted to actually hear some positive feedback about his vigilante efforts, since most of the Bugle audience were inherently negative. 

Now that he could see the costume up close though, he could see the inconsistencies with his own. Of course they wouldn't be the same, but his seemed to be one of a commercial value. It was a one piece body suit and definitely of a thinner, lower quality spandex. Connor himself was of a slighter build that himself, and had a much flatter midsection, his own having a bit more muscle- which he was very proud of. Nonetheless, he spent a large amount of time commiserating with him on Spiderman knowledge. In fact, he had so much fun with such a simple enterprise he hadn't even noticed they had been chatting and in his case, photographing, for well over an hour. 

"Damn. Guys, we have to get back to the hotel if we want to be up by 8AM." Dani said, checking a large ornate wristwatch. 

"Yes! I need to make sure I can make the contest at 9:30." The Spiderman said abruptly. 

"Be where?" Peter asked curiously. He should have known a bunch of costumed people weren't walking around New York for no good reason. As far as he knew, only he did that. 

"The anime convention. Burough-Con. There's a Spiderman cosplay contest tomorrow and I plan on winning." Peter had to pause a moment to digest this information. 

"A contest…for Spiderman?" He intoned, feeling a warm bloom of pride in his chest.

"Yeah, you should come." 

"Yeah, I should."

"You could maybe put that in the paper, it's a decent sized convention." Peter nodded numbly, but for the first time in a long time work was perhaps the last thing on his mind. After getting the address and thanking the happy congoers for their time, Peter practically skipped home.

It had been a long time since he felt, well, thrilled to be Spiderman. Over time it had devolved into a duty he'd performed reflexively without even thinking about it or expecting anything in return. Today however, it felt good to be appreciated. 

He thought briefly the next morning as he dressed in his suit that perhaps it was an abuse of power as a superhero to enter a contest as himself, but pushed that thought away. He was just having a bit of fun, and he'd made sure to ask if there was a prize or a reward and Connor had said no- just the satisfaction of winning. He wouldn't really be depriving anyone of anything, and that voice that told him it was a bit egocentric to enter your own contest could go to hell. He wasn't vain necessarily, in reality he felt sort of like a failure, and thought it was a good idea. Maybe he'd feel better about himself. He'd at least manage to get out of his flat. He just didn't want to take some sort of physical prize away from some con attendee who'd put a lot of effort into their costume. Although, to be fair, he put quite a bit of work into his own costume too albeit for different purposes. 

When he actually made it to the convention center however, all rationalizing stopped in the blessed silence of hundreds of chattering people crowding the place. He had been a bit nervous about showing up somewhere as Spiderman without the intention of causing tons of collateral damage, and even more self-conscious about showing up as a grown ass man in a superhero costume. He compensated for the deal by swinging low and webcrawling covertly around the block, finally dropping down in a thin alley with little window cover and walking the rest of the way. On the second front he shouldn't have worried at all. The information he'd dug up on the event hadn't specified an age range and given the fact that the crowd from last night had seemed at least a few years younger than him, he'd been a little concerned. But some of the events on the website had specified age restrictions of over 18 so he'd breathed a little easier. It seemed the convention covered any age range; Peter saw girls that had to be about 5 years old dressed up as Rarity all the way up to a middle aged man dressed as Solid Snake from Metal Gear. He was glad he had brought his camera. It was a bit cumbersome to swing with, but he was sure if he hadn't brought it he'd regret it.

He'd never seen so many of his favorite things in one place before. There were Iron Men, Black Widows, Pokemon of every type, Weeping Angels, and Doctors of every season. He was now thinking he might actually run out of memory on his SD card. At the moment though, he had someplace to be. After snagging an info booklet and map from a nearby help desk he located a schedule; matching the location for the cosplay contest with the labelled, lettered rooms on the map.

It was slightly disconcerting in a very public arena as Spiderman, but not terribly so. It was just enough that every few minutes he gave himself a slight startle before reminding himself that nearly half the convention was dressed up in some ludicrous fashion. He attracted very little attention by comparison. Normally when he was out and about as Spiderman it was either very late at night or very early in the morning, he'd meet almost no one unless he was beating the tar out of them, which was a frequent occurrence. He did however almost have a panic attack when he'd had to write his name down for the cosplay contest. He'd hesitated an inappropriate amount of time while the volunteer looked him over shrewdly, before deciding that it wouldn't do any harm and he was being more suspicious just by standing there. Yet he did get a small thrill just by writing 'Spiderman' next to his name. 

The room was the size of a banquet hall and packed with people, most of whom were dressed up. He presumed he would be here for a while. The cosplay event had such a wide range of applicants, there were several contests. It separated the devotees into genre categories; 'anime,' 'disney,' 'superheroes,' etcetera. Then, depending on the amount of applicants in each category, narrowed them down even further. There was a whole contest just for Naruto, and a whole contest just for Attack on Titan, and (Peter's stomach did a couple flip-flops) Spiderman, as a sub-category, had at least ten applicants with himself included. In the downtime he made his way through the room taking plenty of pictures and talking with other waiting contestants until the Spiderman competition took place. 

They were almost done with the Black Widows when Peter decided to go to the water fountain. The Spiderman was the last in the superhero category and they were just about to wrap up. He hadn't drank or eaten all morning and had been there for about an hour before getting over the fact that he'd had to lift his mask up to drink in front of people. He had just wiped his mouth when he heard the harried voices from the registration desk. 

"Please?! I was barely late. I slept a bit late. You just have to let me sign up!" What struck him more than anything was that it was a grown man speaking. 

"I'm so sorry, but registration just ended… I can't…" At this Peter turned around to see a man in a Spiderman suit leaning prostrate on the registration desk in front of the much younger female volunteer, clasping his hands together and positively pleading. 

"You don't understand. Spiderman is my everything! You can't keep me from honoring my vigilante homeboy!" Before he could help it, Peter was doubled over with silent laughter. Never in his entire career as Spiderman had he considered himself in the term 'vigilante homeboy'.

"Well, i-it just wouldn't be fair for the other contestants who showed up on time…" Despite his submissive stature the girl looked almost terrified. Granted, the guy was big. Almost a foot taller than Peter, barrel chested, and ripped musculature showed cleanly through high quality spandex. Peter vaguely wondered if he was some sort of body builder. Even if he could intimidate her, he most certainly wasn't trying to. It was almost cute the way he was whimpering, and his devotion to his alter-ego was so flattering as to almost be embarrassing. He went over to the desk before he could change his mind. 

"Hey-"

"Look, I'm really sorry but registration is closed." The massive Spiderman looked over at him, as well as the harassed volunteer. Peter shook his head. 

"No, I'm already registered. I just couldn't help overhear. It wouldn't be too much for him to sign up now would it? We haven't gone up yet." Peter kept his tone light so as to not stress her out more, and to his relief her shoulders relaxed. The desperate Spiderman stood up hurriedly, looking at the attending with what he would imagine were pleading eyes behind the mask. 

"Look, if it were up to me, I would, but-" 

"What's going on Jen?" A melodic voice sounded from a few feet away where an older woman with bright purple hair sauntered over.

"Oh, thank God! Ami, this guy wants to register and I told him it was too late and everyone who was competing had to be registered by 9:30, but-" The woman waved her hand dismissively. 

"Jenny, you're okay girl. Calm down. It's cool." She reached below the desk and pulled out a can of coke from a cooler. Snapping the top she took a big draw and surveyed them both. 

"It's you two, is it?" Peter shook his head. 

"I'm registered. He's not. I was just wondering why he couldn't. I mean, we haven't gone yet-" 

"Please spunky scene chick! I will get you all the soda!" The man interrupted. The girl's eyes widened for a moment before she snorted directly into her can of coke, spraying herself with liquid and laughter for a few seconds until she managed to calm down with a wipe of her face and a good--natured sigh. 

"Mostly, you can't because the list is taken up in advance for our judges. Luckily, I'm a judge and you're a trip." She said, pointing at the larger man, to which he nodded sagely.

"To Jamaica." The woman looked like she was fighting off a smile as she pushed a notepad and pen from the table and slid it over to the latecomer. 

"To Jamaica, yes. Well, sign your name. We'll squeeze you in." Peter smiled under his mask and walked back towards the stage where the winning black widow was taking a bow. 

He had barely managed to go ten paces before he was almost bowled over with no warning from his spidey sense whatsoever. 

"Hey!" 

"Thank you so much spidey-babe, you're my hero!" He was swept into an all-encompassing bear hug, that wasn't too unwelcome as he could feel those strong muscles press in on him. What was curious is the strange sense of deja-vu 

"Uh, yeah, no problem." Suddenly with the man's arms still around him, those large muscles tensed. He pulled away slightly and observed the shorted male for several uncomfortable seconds. Peter was just about to tell him to get a grip when he spoke, and instantly turned Peter's blood into ice water. 

"You really are my hero." It was spoken in an awed whisper that didn't seem at all professing grandeur in a hyperbolic sense. It sounded like he meant it, like it was a secret meant for just the two of them. Peter had to force himself to remain calm as he pulled away. 

"No, I'm really not. I didn't even do anything." Peter said in what he hoped was a nonchalant voice. 

"I know. He's perfect…" Peter wondered vaguely if the guy was autistic as he put some space between them. Maybe he'd overreacted. There was no possible way the guy could have recognized him, here he was just a guy in a suit. Hell, there were nine other spiders walking around this room alone. 

Although, it was such an unexpected comment, and he was a really attractive guy. Peter wasn't ashamed of the fact that he was bisexual, and a nice muscle clad man was a known weakness. Peter couldn't fight the blush and was extremely glad he was wearing a mask. 

"Well, thanks I guess. I'm gonna just-" He motioned with his hands, wondering when they hell he had gotten so socially awkward in the suit. Normally, the suit gave him confidence. He supposed it was because he couldn't escape the feeling that in this environment he definitely felt more like plain old Peter Parker. He walked away, heading towards the stage again when he was accosted. 

"Wait, wait! You forgot to tell me what a sweet guy like you is doing in a place like this." Somehow the man's arm had wrapped around his waist, Peter's breath caught in his throat. Even though he wasn't applying pressure, Peter could tell he was incredibly strong. The heat of him was enough to make melting butter jealous of his insides. 

"I wasn't aware that you had asked." Peter replied as testily as he could. 

"Ah- Didn't I? No? Well, I'm asking now." Something about this guy's voice was eerily familiar, like he'd heard it somewhere before but couldn't think of where. It was a higher jaunty voice but gave the impression that a deep baritone was a definite possibility. Another weakness of his, as it happened. It was undeniably attractive. Peter extricated himself, perhaps a little reluctantly, from the arm that held him and put his hands on his hips. 

"You know, if you're just a fan of Spiderman and that gets your motor running or something, there are nine others in here. You could go pick one of them up."

"But what if I'm only interested in you?" There was the baritone, and Peter couldn't deny it was working for him. 

"And why would that be?" Peter was glad his voice didn't sound nearly as flustered as he felt. The other spiderman somehow managed to look him over in a lascivious manner even with his face completely covered. How was that even possible? 

"Have you looked in the mirror lately? I don't think it's just the spandex that makes you look that fine." Peter was struck dumb for a moment. He knew he wasn't the worst looking guy in the world, he was fit, and he had put on a bit of muscle but he knew he didn't rank in this guy's league. In Peter's opinion, he didn't even think they were playing in the same sport.

"Are you making fun of me?" The guy's suave demeanor crumbled as his shoulders slumped forward. 

"What? No! Why would I-? I'm completely serious Spidey. Your booty in spandex is Grade A spank bank material!" Where had he heard that voice before? Not only the voice, but the entire package. He had the distinct impression that he knew this guy. He felt if he could concentrate in silence for a bit it would come to him, but unfortunately right now his brain couldn't move past the fact that over 200lbs of pure beefcake thought he was attractive. 

"That's a bit presumptuous. How do you even know I swing that way?" The man leaned in close, and Peter didn't have it in him to lean away. 

"Sweetness, with the web you're slinging you could probably swing any way you wanted. I'm just kinda hoping it's my way, you get what I mean?" The husky whisper almost made him hard, and if that wasn't sad Peter didn't know what was. When was the last time he had gotten laid? He had to get away from this situation as fast as possible, before the guy actually succeeded. 

"As much as I love bad puns, I'm sure if you look around you'll find someone better suited for your 'hit it and quit it' scheme." He moved to sidestep, but the man was so massive he barely had to move to block him. 

"I think you got the wrong idea here. Hit it? If I'm lucky, maybe? Quit it? I don't think so." Peter paused. What was with this guy? There was no way this was happening. 

"I mean, unless that's the way you want it. In which case, I'll take what I can get." Peter snorted in response.

"Why don't you seduce the real Spiderman or something?" Peter said, as savagely as possible and hurriedly darting around and away from the brickhouse, but unfortunately not quick enough to escape his reply.

"I don’t have to." There was something in the way he said it that made Peter stop in his tracks. There was no possible way he could know it was him, but he couldn't help the spike of fear that ran through him. 

"Oh? And why is that?" Somehow through self-preservation he managed to sound pompous and unconcerned. He could feel the man lean close from behind until he was breathing heavily in his ear. 

"Because, I am the real Spiderman." 

That certainly hadn't been what he expected.


End file.
